


Without Me

by Let_the_kids_techno



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Let_the_kids_techno/pseuds/Let_the_kids_techno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dillon loves someone he can't have. It sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Me

Dillon doesn't know why he does this to himself. He doesn’t know why he makes a habit of snatching glances at Porter and Anton all wrapped up in each other every time he's around them. He doesn't know why he can't just move on and get over this stupid crush because it's KILLING him.

He's spent all of tonight, all of his set, watching Porter and Anton curled up next to each other in the back of the club. Watches them share a drink. Dillon thinks he hates Porter. He certainly knows he's so envious of Porter's grip on Anton that he almost can't see right.

He snatches one last glance at the couple just in time to see them kiss; he fucks up "Now Hear This" so badly that Tommy has to come out and help him. He's thankful the crowd seems to want Diplo's encore enough for them to miss Dillon slipping off the stage in a flustered haze of embarrassment and heartbreak.

Why does he do this to himself?

Dillon sits at the bar and orders the strongest thing they have. He drinks until he can't see straight, and then keeps drinking. The burn of alcohol isn't as good of a distraction as it usually is, though, and he finds he can't look away from the back corner of the club. He watches the way Anton laughs, with his head tipped back just a little and his nose crinkling just slightly. 

He ends up slumped over the bar, wondering why this is happening to him. Why it feels like someone has his heart in a vice grip. He swallows back tears with the bitter taste of vodka. 

Porter and Anton leave sometime during Dillon's drinking binge, and he watches them do so in a drunken haze, wishing it was him holding Anton's hand. There's still a dull ache in his chest; a longing that just won't leave him.  
\----  
Dillon passes out and wakes up in his bed with Tommy frowning down at him. The clock tells him it's 3am, and his stomach tells him he's gone and drank himself sick.

"What the hell, Dillon," Tommy asks, and he looks so disappointed, Dillon burns with embarrassment. “I had to do your set so you could drink until you passed out?"

"Anton and Porter were there," he says weakly. He rolls onto his side and curls up into a ball. He really doesn't want to have this conversation right now. Tommy is always telling him to give it up, but he can't.

"Dillon," Tommy sighs. Dillon can't see his face, but if he knows Tommy at all, he's probably not mad anymore. 

" 's not fair!" He slurs, and suddenly his eyes are wet. He doesn't even bother to wipe the tears away; it's dark and he's still too drunk to care.

"I know. But life isn't fucking fair, man. You gotta get over this kid." And there he goes, telling him to give up. Like every other time some variation of this situation happens. The tears have turned into full-on drunken sobbing at this point.

"But I love him," Dillon cries indignantly, and he can hear Tommy shift uncomfortably above him. 

"I know, Dil, I know." 

Sometime during Dillon's breakdown Tommy leaves and closes the door behind him. He cries for a long, long time before falling asleep without realizing it.  
\---  
He wakes up feeling like he's been run over by a bus. He also feels like he's going to vomit, which he does as soon as he gets to the toilet. Dillon barely hears bathroom door open over the sound of his retching.

"You're a fucking moron," Tommy sighs. Dillon can't see him on account of his face being shoved in the toilet, but he assumes he looks annoyed.

He manages to calm his stomach enough to pull back and look at his friend. "You stayed? You really do car-" his sarcastic remark is cut off by another round of violent vomiting. 

"Look what this kid’s done to you, Dil." Again, Dillon can't see him, but Tommy sounds exasperated so he must look it too.

"I did this to myself," he groans in Anton's defense.

"Because of him!" 

"Why do you hate him so much?!" 

"Because he's got you in fucking shambles, dude! You're a mess over this kid!"

This is not exactly the ideal location or situation for a fight, but once Tommy sets off on something, there's no going back, so Dillon figures he's screwed either way. 

"You fucked up your set last night, drank so much you passed out, and now you're puking all over the place. Look at you, man!" Tommy continues, and Dillon groans weakly into the toilet as a response.

Dillon finally stands after a few moments, wobbly at best, and flushes the toilet with a grimace. He stumbles to the sink to brush his teeth. Tommy stands in the doorway with his arms crossed.

Tommy just doesn't understand that Anton is worth it. Worth pinning away for. He's everything Dillon has ever wanted. Anton is such a good friend, but Dillon wants MORE, knows they could be more.

"I love him," he says once he's successfully washed the taste of vomit and stale liquor out of his mouth. He vaguely remembers saying that in a drunken haze last night, but he figures he'll say it again, just so Tommy knows why he's doing this.

"Yeah, well tell him that, so he can tell you exactly what I'm telling you: he doesn't want you." Tommy says all at once. It's quick, like ripping off a band-aid. A sudden slap to the face. Dillon swallows hard and feels sick all over again. 

Silence settles over them, awkward and heavy. Dillon stares into the sink, partly because he doesn't want to look at his friend, and partly because he's hoping the sink will magically supply him with a good comeback. But it's a fucking sink, so it doesn't say anything. Tommy has the decency to leave, as soon as Dillon's eyes start to sting, without so much as a goodbye. 

He composes himself after a minute of uncomfortable crying and drags himself back to his bed. 

He goes back to bed and doesn't wake up until sundown.


End file.
